
Glass I <^ c v^- :.- 



TIDES OF COMMERCE 



TIDES OF COMMERCE 

SCHOOL AND COLLEGE VERSE 



BY 

WM. GARY SANGER, Jr. 



Second Edition 



NEW YORK 

COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 

1915 



P23527 



Copyright, 1915, by 
WM. CARY SANGER, Jr. 



Transfer 

Army and Navy ClUub 

March 3,1931 



DEDICATION 

Sweep on, vast Tide of Commerce — night and day- 
Afar on steel-shod track or ocean trail, 
Bearing the burdens for the world's advance, 
Linking the varied lands by sea and rail. 
Without thy aid what would our work avail ? 
Civilization owes its spread to thee ; 
So serve the world, till man's long fight is won, 
When all our work on earth at last is done. 



Contents 

PAGE 

Dedication 3 

Preface 7 

Introduction 9 

The Harvest 13 

Song of the Empire Builders 15 

Electricity 17 

The Sentinels of the Line 19 

Seafarer's Song of the Night 22 

The Christmas Mails 24 

Fifty-Four Forty Retired 27 

The Pioneers 29 

Road-Service Rules 31 

Electric Locomotives 34 

In the Starlit Valley 36 

Steam 37 

When the Liner Sailed 38 

In the Care of the Engineer 40 

The Freights 43 

Road Song of the Crews 45 

By the Flare of the Northern Lights 46 

The Roundhouse 48 

The Valley of Play 50 

What the Railroad Never Tells 51 

The Inventor 53 

At the End of the Night 54 

5 



Tides of Commerce 

PAGE 

In the Pullman Window 56 

The Answer 58 

On the Line 60 

As THE Westbound Train Goes By 62 

The Lightships 63 

Nightsono 67 

The Conquerors 61) 

Clearing the Way 'ri 

The Ocean Trail 75 

Night in the Yards 77 

Conclusions 79 

Machinery Song 81 

Inside Information 82 

The Harbor Lights 85 

Transportation Song 87 

Water Power 88 

The Man Who Knows 89 

Where There's Never a Dress Parade 92 

The "Mile-a-Minute" Trains 94 

The Fulfillment 96 

Terminal Dreams 98 

To THE Lights of the Lines 99 

Oh ! FOB a Master Painter 101 

Apology 103 

The Terminal 104 

The Ruling Law 107 

L'Envoi 108 



Preface 

"Tides of Commerce" first appeared in book form 
during the spring of 1915. In the present edition 
several minor changes have been made, including 
the introduction of two new poems. Many of these 
verses were originally published in the " Vindex " of 
St. Mark's School, and others in the "Harvard Ad- 
vocate." The poems in this book are not arranged 
chronologically. 

The writer wishes to express his thanks to those 
friends who have so kindly helped him by their crit- 
icisms and suggestions. 

W. C. S., Jr. 

New York City, 
September, 1915. 



Introduction — 1 91 2 

Since the earliest dawn of civilization, commerce 
and trade have been the determining factors in the 
making and unmaking of cities, nations, and em- 
pires. For commercial development, statesmen have 
planned, warriors have fought, armies have battled, 
and kings have fallen. In looking backward over the 
record of the past it may well be said that industrial 
traffic has been the moulder, if not the very maker of 
history. The growth and dominion of Nineveh stood 
as a witness of this fact; Tyre and Venice again 
proved it ; and to-day the power of commerce is shown 
by such cities as Hamburg, London, and New York. 

But, aside from its influence in changing and ex- 
tending boundaries, transportation in its broadest 
sense has been the means of accomplishing a far better 
and far greater work. It has been the vanguard of 
civilization and progress, and by its all encompassing 
and far flung network it has united the scattered na- 
tions ; and has extended the realms of knowledge, law, 
and Christianity to the uttermost bounds of the world. 

And in this connection, the improvements in the 
means of transportation have been the stepping-stones 
by which civilization has spread. Before the advent 
of steam and electricity it was absolutely impossible 

9 



Introduction 

for China and North America or England and Cen- 
tral Africa to become closely and intimately related. 
The barriers of distance and time were too great. To- 
day, however, by means of railroads, steamers, and 
telegraphs, no section of the world need be isolated, 
for ideals, thoughts, and commodities can be quickly 
and conveniently interchanged. And, in the far-away 
future, as distance continues to be still more effec- 
tively eliminated, the greatest dream of the ages may 
at length come true — a "United Federation of the 
World." If this vision of the past is to be realized, 
if this dream is indeed to come true, commerce, indus- 
trial development and rapid transportation are to 
be the concrete means by which this end is to be 
accomplished. 

It must not be inferred that commercial activity is 
entirely and absolutely good; far from it, much of it 
is distinctly bad — for in common with all other world- 
wide enterprises, it has had its full share of the worth- 
less as well as the noble. Taken as a whole, however, 
the effect of commerce is overwhelmingly good, and 
like all other great developments, by its ups and 
downs, failures and successes, sins and blessings, it 
goes on slowly but surely advancing and laying the 
certain foundations for that better and greater day 
which is to come. 

This little volume is published in the hope that it 
may do its part in calling attention to the interest and 

10 



Introduction 

romance in the development of transportation and 
commerce and to the men whose Hves are spent in the 
various departments of this work and service. 

W. C. S., Jr. 
December, 1912. 

N. B. — 1914. The present European War in no 
way alters the fundamental facts and opinions set 
forth in the above introduction. The war, extensive 
and terrible though it is, should be regarded in the 
broader light of the world's history since the dawn of 
civilization, due consideration being taken of the 
opportunities which await Humanity in the far-dis- 
tant future. When thus viewed, the war becomes 
merely a temporary set-back in the development 
and resistless progress of Mankind. 

W. C. S., Je. 

November 19, 1914.. 



11 



The Harvest 

There's a message, perhaps you have heard it, 

Coming from fields afar. 
Calling you out to the harvest 

With the dawn and the morning star. 
From coral and palm to glacier. 

From harbor to mountain chain. 
Voices are calling for reapers 

Who are needed to harvest the grain. 

Each has his work before him, 

Each has his task to do. 
Steamer and dock and derrick. 

Tower and yard and crew. 
Desk and bench and office. 

Tunnel and mine and rail — 
All are calling for workers. 

Calling you out on the trail. 

You, who have heard the summons. 

You who have learned the way. 
Go — hurry on to the battle. 

Take up your task to-day. 
13 



Tides of Commerce 

For the world is awaiting the workers, 
Waiting — full well you know ; 

Up and on to the harvest, 
For the fields await you — go. 



14) 



Song of the Empire Builders 

Builders of Empire we — 

Moulders of Fate and Destiny. 

Far to the bounds of the last, lone land — 

Through the wastes untrod, and the trackless sand, 

To the realms where the snow-capped mountains 

stand. 
Go the vanguards of our trade. 

Never a range too high, 

Never a waste too dry, 

But our ranks sweep on to the distant land 

In numbers strong — a conquering band. 

Knowing no fear — for we understand 

The work that is ours to do. 

Forward is our cry, 
Though the price we pay is high; 
For the seasons go and come anew — 
But many a man of our far-called crew 
Goes out to the task he is told to do — 
Goes — and returns no more. 

15 



Tides of Commerce 

We conquer the plains and heights 

From the palm to the Northern lights, 

And the waste gives way to the homes of men, 

To farm, and city, and track, and train, 

And the ancient hills give back again 

The wealth they have held for years. 

We launch new ships to trade 

With lands we have found and made ; 

We open new fields for the world's supply, 

We link them firmly with rail and tie 

To the cities afar — that none may die 

For want of their daily bread. 

Builders of Empire, we — 

Vessel, and track and quay 

Tell of the lines our men surveyed, 

Of the farms new-tilled, of the land that paid. 

Of the cities and towns our work has made — 

A world wide Empire-realm. 



16 



Electricity 

A flash of blue-white fire, 
A crackhng trail of light, 

A voice along a wire, 
A whisper in the night. 

Afar from the lonely tower. 
Loosed, unfettered, free, 

A grim, mysterious power, 
I answer the ship at sea. 

In subway, street, or dwelling. 
Wherever the lines may reach, 

There comes my current, telling 
Of power, light, and speech. 

Along the silent wires, 
Over the drifting snows. 

My pulse that never tires 
Beats and throbs and flows. 

I speak beneath the ocean. 
Deep on mystic trails ; 

I thrill the land with motion, 
And race along the rails. 
17 



Tides of Commerce 

A flash of blue-white fire, 
A crackling trail of light, 

A voice along a wire, 
A whisper in the night. 



18 



The Sentinels of the Line 

(With acknowledgments to R. K.) 

In the flush of the summer heat, 

In the chill of the winter's snow. 
The pulses of industry beat, 

The tides of traffic flow; 
And the engineers — they know 

What is staked on the signals they see. 
Do we fail in the trust that is placed in our hands? 

(Clear! Line Clear!) — Not we. 

Little the passengers know 

(And little the passengers care) 
The meaning of what we show ; 

Danger! Caution! All clear! 
Along the line, far and near. 

We watch o'er the trains on their way ; 
Do the passengers thank us as on they go? 

( Clear ! Line Clear ! ) — Not they. 

When the sun has set in the west, 

And the shadows of night hold sway. 
When the world seeks its well-earned rest, 

19 



Tides of Commerce 

And forgets the cares of the day ; 
Do we cast our cares away? 

We watch, and the engineers see, 
Do we fail them at night when they need us most? 

( Green. All clear ! ) — Not we. 

When the storms their harvests reap. 

And the wind on the mountain roars, 
When the cottages all are asleep, 

And gusts shake the windows and doors, 
Do we cease to watch? Do we pause? 

Never, nor ask for pay, 
Do the passengers dream of the lives that we guard? 

( Yellow I Slow down ! ) — Not they. 

In the rush of the traffic's tide, 

When the overtime shifts are on, 
When the coal from the mountain side 

To the crowded yard is borne ; 
And the crews come weary and worn. 

From the west and the ports by the sea, 
Do we slacken our watch through the busy night? 

(Red! Line blocked!) — Not we. 

'Neath the starlit skies' faint glow 
And the pale moon's specter light. 

On the rails they've traveled and know 
Go the couriers grim of the night. 
20 



The Sentinels of the Line 

Heralds of power and might — 

But trusting the signals they see, 
Do we fail in the trust they have placed in our 
hands ? 

(Green! All clear!) — Not we. 



21 



Seafarer's Song of the Night 

We're swinging her into the dawn, boys, 

Over the plunging seas — 
A battle of nerve and brawn, boys. 

Into the battering breeze. 
The spray is flying afar, boys, 

The seas are thundering by. 
As we follow the eastern star, boys, 

Under a clearing sky. 

The liner rears — and falls. 

Drenched with the smoking spray, 
Into a trough that appalls. 

Plunges — and ships it gray ; 
Then rises away to the stars. 

Pouring the water astern ; 
While over the hatches and spars 

The spray clouds sweep and churn. 

The deckworks shudder and groan ; 

Rigging, and rope, and mast 
Tremble and quiver and moan, 

Swayed in the stinging blast ; 
22 



Seafarer's Song of the Night 

The smoke is blown to the west, 

Low, hard down a-lee; 
And there's not much time for rest 

In a gale on the open sea. 

On every side are waves. 

Multitudinous, vast. 
And we watch how the ship behaves 

As the staggering seas go past ; 
"All snug," as she lifts and keels. 

Is tlie story the liner tells. 
While she rears and swings and reels 

In the gray, tumultuous swells. 

The stars in the sky grow dim, boj^s. 

The east begins to glow. 
But the ocean still is grim, boys, 

And the waves still surge below ; 
A battle of nerve and brawn, boys. 

As tlie plunging seas go by. 
For we're swinging her into the dawn, boys. 

Under a clearing sky. 



23 



The Christmas Mails 

The old year's nearly past, 

And Christmas time is here; 
The weary world at last 

Dreams of returning cheer. 
In nations near and far 

All cares are cast away, 
And the stars are bright in the frosty night. 

For to-morrow is Christmas Day! 

The railroad plays its part 

In making the season gay, 
Cheering many a heart 

And brightening many a way. 
Can you hear the trains in the night 

Humming along the rails. 
Spreading their cheer afar and near. 

Trains with the Christmas mails? 

Close by the window panes 

Children and parents stand 
And wait for the Christmas trains 

That are hastening over the land. 
24. 



The Christmas Mails 

And the old are awaiting the mails 
That will call back the memories dear, 

Of the Christmas Chimes of bygone times 
And friends no longer near. 

The letters from land and sea 

Are welcomed at every door, 
And they're waiting the trains with glee 

In the homes of the rich and the poor; 
For the mail's no respecter of wealth, 

The high and the low are the same; 
To valley and town the mails come down, 

Brought in the government's name. 

Hark! far away, do you hear 

The notes of distant bells? 
The joyful sound comes near; 

Do you know the tale it tells? 
It's the song of the Christmas mails. 

And they're hastening on to-night; 
Their headlights glow on the frosty snow 

As they hurry along in their flight. 

The mails come in from afar, 

From the Lands of the East and the West; 
They're swung from the ship to the car 

And they're off on their inland quest; 
25 



Tides of Commerce 

Can you hear the trains in the night 

Roaring along the rails? 
They sing "Good cheer, afar and near,' 

For they carry the Christmas mails. 



26 



Fifty-Four Forty Retired 

("Locomotive 5440 has been retired from the 
service") 

Fifty-four forty's retired, 

He was called the "Old Man of the Rail," 
And the boys of the line all liked him. 

For he never was known to fail ; 
And now at the General Office 

(As the charts and the records tell) 
They've balanced accounts in the ledger — 

And Fifty-four forty's done well. 

He's gone to that greatest of railroads 

Where the good locomotives go ; 
To a line where there's never a landslide. 

Or trouble from sleet or snow. 
The blocks show "Clear" down the tangents. 

There's never a wreck or a break ; 
Not even a journal gets heated, 

And nobody makes a mistake. 

Wlien Fifty-four forty was running, 
Any day, in the sun or the rain, 

27 



Tides of Commerce 

You could see him climbing the mountains, 
With his heavy rumbling train. 

His course lay over the ranges 

And down through valley and glen ; 

His life was a life of service, 
His work was to work for men. 

And many a man may envy 

That record and life and work, 
For Fifty-four forty was steady, 

He'd never "get tired" or shirk; 
And there's many a man in the roundhouse 

Who'll be missing his whistle and bell. 
For Fifty-four forty's retired — 

And Fifty-four forty's done well. 



28 



The Pioneers 

Where the distant ranges tower with their snow- 
capped peaks and ledges, 
Saffron colored in the sunset's dying glow; 
Where the mountain goat and eagle reign supreme on 
crag and summit 
And the mist hangs in the canyons down below; 

Where no sound of cities' clamor ever comes to wake 
the echoes. 
And the solemn stillness rules the night and day ; 
Where the lonely, time-scarred mountains stand like 
warders of the ranges — 
There the pioneers are blazing out the way. 

Over prairies to the desert — over sand dunes to the 
mountains. 
Through the passes to the plains that lie beyond ; 
Driving onward, ever onward in the face of drought 
and blizzard. 
Thus — and only thus — the fertile land is found. 

Hard and fierce the long-fought battle with the forces 
of the ranges, 

29 



Tides of Commerce 

Bitter hunger, hopeless weariness and thirst ; 
Even now, the dust of many Mes forgotten on the 
passes 
Where the force of crag and desert did its worst. 

Not for them the people's praises and the eulogizing 
tombstones. 
Or the thanks of future settlers on the land, 
They are dust — and all their efforts and their labors 
may seem wasted, 
But the lonely crags and mountains mider stand. 

Yes, they've seen the leaders perish, but they know 
the trail's advancing, 
For they see the thin, blue smoke that tells the tale 
Of the lighted camp fires burning — far below — down 
in the valley. 
Where the remnant still is blazing out the trail. 

Storms may halt them — death may check them, for a 
time perhaps their efforts 
May seem lost with not a hope for going on ; 
But though hindered and though baffled, never can the 
work be slackened 
Till the last, long range of mountain chains is won. 



30 



Road- Service Rules 

First and last of all the Orders 
To be followed day and night : 

Keep your mind and keep your body 
Clean and strong and clear and right. 

Be on time to take your places. 
Flagman, trainman, engineer. 

Baggage master and conductor ; 
And be sure your eyesight's clear. 

Then inspect your apparatus, 

Brakes and signals, lights and all; 

See that every bolt and bearing 
Will not fail you when you call. 

See that things are in their places, 

Look to it that all is clean. 
Little need there is to tell you 

What is staked on the machine. 

Then you're ready for the signal. 
All your preparations done. 

And your conscience will be easy 
When you've started on your run. 
31 



Tides of Commerce 

You, whose work is in the Coaches 
And the Pulhnans — take good care 

To be courteous and kindly, 
To be tolerant and fair. 

Help them all with equal gladness: 
Young and rich — or old and gray ; 

Don't forget that words of kindness 
Help to cheer them on their way. 

Flagmen — when your train is halted 
And your orders send you back. 

Take your fuses and torpedoes 

And your flag — and guard your track. 

You who man the roaring engine — 
Watch the signal arms by day; 

"Caution," "Clear," or "Stop"— they'll tell 
you 
Of the trains along your way. 

When the passengers are sleeping 
And you're racing through the night. 

Watch your signals — trust their message, 
They shall guide you by their light. 

Through the endless miles of darkness 
"Let her drive" — and never fear; 

Trust the Master Train Dispatcher, 
Trust the lamps that beckon clear. 
32 



Road-Service Rules 

Ever watchful, ever careful, 
Ever steady — true as steel; 

Fearless — watch the lights before you. 
While the flying shadows reel. 

Racing down the level tangents. 
Creeping up the mountain climb. 

Mind your train — and keep her steady, 
And you'll bring her in "On time." 

First and last of all the orders 
To he folloived day and night: 

Keep your mind and keep your body 
Clean and strong and clear and right. 



33 



Electric Locomotives 

Silent as night we make our flight 
Through the shadowy, terminal zone. 

With never a sound but the echoing ground 
And our warning bell's clear tone, 

We skim and trail along the rail, 
Silent, fleet, alone. 

By the glow of the stars we race with our cars. 

Till the terminal lights are near ; 
The click of the wheel and the purr of the steel 

Are the gladdening sounds we hear 
As we set the pace in our headlong race. 

When the signal lights show clear. 

In snow or rain we haul our train. 

Sure of our speed and power, 
And the semaphores gleam — but the passengers 
dream 
As we rush past bridge and tower, 
Till we halt on time to the echoing chime 
When the big clock makes the hour. 
34 



Electric Locomotives 

Over the trails we haul the mails 
That travel afar in the night, 

And whirhng down, we pass each town- 
A flare of electric light. 

Silent and grim, we trust to Him 
In the rush of our shadowy flight. 



35 



In the Starlit Valley 

In the lonely, starlit valley, 

Wliere the mountains loom, black-blue, 
Like a phantom of light in the dusk of the night, 

The "Limited" train goes through. 

The rails awake, and the echoes 

Ring from rock and crest, 
And thunder away as the hills repay 

The song of the Flyer's quest. 

The rear lights dwindle and vanish, 

The rails again are still; 
The echoes cease — and all is peace 

On valley, ridge, and hill. 



36 



Steam 

By the roar of a million mills, 
By the whirl of a million wheels ; 

By the grim refrain of the racing train, 
And the ship that rears and reels ; 

By the donkey engine's chatter. 

And the hoist that lifts the block; 

By the soothing purr where the flywheels whir. 
By the drills that pierce the rock; 

By the clatter of shoveled coal. 

And the clank of the firebox door, 

By the power and might of the blinding light 
Where the white-hot fires roar; 

By the flash of polished steel, 

Where the crosshead pinions gleam, 

I ply my trails o'er seas and rails, 
I — the Toiler — Steam. 

Servant of all the world; 

Forward and back again — 
A tireless power that toils each hour, 

I work the Works of men. 
37 



When the Liner Sailed 

We parted at the steamer's side 

Before they cast the hawsers clear. 
The turning of the restless tide 
Was near. 

Oh, world of hope and love and strife, 

Perhaps it's well for me to say 
There'd been a quarrel — such is life — 
That day. 

I hoped that when we came to part 
She'd choose the one alternative, 
And, being forgiven — in her heart 
Forgive. 

A moment there she turned her head. 

And looked away, as if to sigh, 
Then raised her eyes to mine and said 
"Good-by." 

And that was all; no word of cheer, 

So quiet and so cold she seemed. 
But yet I thought I saw a tear 
That gleamed. 
38 



When the Liner Sailed 

With mingled anger, pain and love, 

I watched her enter at the side, 
That loomed so black and vast above 
The tide. 

The whistle echoed through the town, 

The towering vessel backed away, 
And, swinging seaward, started down 
The bay. 



39 



In the Care of the Engineer 

The sunset flares — the skyhne glares 

Deep black against the gold, 
On land and stream the lanterns gleam, 

Silent are house and fold; 
The workmen cease and evening peace 

Descends on young and old. 



But along the trail of the gleaming rail 

We race with the flying time. 
The bridges wake and the rock-cuts shake 

To the voice of our whistle's chime; 
We rouse the night in our thundering flight 

And the rails are a roaring rhyme. 

With a ringing "cling-lock-whutna-whing" 

The switches crash below. 
The signals flare as on we tear. 

For they're "letting the engine go"; 
And the reeling track goes roaring back 

At ninety an hour or so. 
40 



In the Care of the Engineer 

With a trailing swerve we round a curve. 
Where the mountain towers high, 

And the strained rails sing and whine and ring 
As the reeling train goes by; 

Till we plunge in the gloom of a tunnel's tomb 
And the blackness hides the sky. 

With a hollow moan the girders groan 

As on to a bridge we roar. 
And the song of the track is echoed back 

By rivet and beam and floor. 
Till the deadened sound of the firmer ground 

Is reached on the other shore. 

Cozy and warm, we're safe from harm 

Wherever the train may go; 
Through towns blue-white with the pale moon's 
light 

On roof and street below. 
Through valleys deep where rivers creep 

All dim in the starlit glow. 

But the day is done and the long night's run 

Is a time for the sleep of the blest; 
The drowsy purr of the dull wheels' whir 

Will lull our souls to rest 
As we follow the stream where the lamplights 
gleam. 
Or round the mountain crest. 
41 



Tides of Commerce 

So on we go — there's a man we know 
Who'll watch if the blocks are "clear"; 

We'll soon be asleep and we'll slumber deep 
With never a thought of fear; 

Our cares will cease and we'll rest in peace, 
And we'll trust to the engineer. 



42 



The Freights 

Bearing the weight of the harvest, 

Travehng night and day. 
Linking a nation together, 

Plodding along the way ; 
On to the distant cities, 

The ponderous freights go by. 
Afar to the inland waters, 

Away to the mountains high. 

Toiling along without ceasing, 

Beating through storms and rains. 
Serving their country as workers 

On go the heavy trains. 
It is they who carry the burdens 

From valley and mountain side; 
Bringing the wealth of a nation 

Down to the ships at the tide. 

And the passengers, riding in comfort. 
Close by the window panes, 

Reading their books and stories, 
Sheltered from storms and rains, 
d<3 



Tides of Commerce 

Never begin to consider 

The work of the freights far and nigh. 
And scarcely look up from their reading 

As the ponderous trains go by. 

But the freights aren't looking for praises 

(Praises you buy and sell) . 
Work is their well-known watchword ; 

Toil is the tale they tell. 
For humanity needs their service, 

And the freights will go laboring on, 
Serving the world as workers 

Till the work of the world is done. 



44 



Road Song of the Crews 

We're takin' her down the hne, my boys. 

The wheels are roarin' below. 
Tunnel and track are answerin' back. 

For we're lettin' her out, you know. 
We're swingin' along on time, my boys. 

The miles are reelin' away. 
For we're takin' her down to the terminal town, 

We're takin' her down to-day. 



45 



By the Flare of the Northern Lights 

In the frozen, silent Arctic, 

Where the Great Cold rules in might. 

Where the day is ice-blue whiteness 
From the snow fields' bhnding light, 

Where the night is frozen stillness, 
And the cold stars twinkle and gleam, 

And the frosty skies are lurid 

With the Northern lights astream; 

Violet, blue, and yellow, 

Copper, and rose — they glow, 
Flickering, ghostly, flaring, 

Silent they come and go, 

Weird, and dim, and haunting. 

They gleam on the ice-packed range, 

Till the gaunt ice crags and ledges 
Flare, and color, and change, 

There, in that endless silence. 

At rest — for evermore. 
There sleeps a band of the Vanguard 

Who trailed to the Northern shore. 
46 



By the Flare of the Northern Lights 

They sleep through the frozen darkness; 

The stars are overhead. 
And the streamers flame in the heavens. 

Sapphire, copper, and red. 

No earthly care shall harm them, 

They shall rest while the world grows old, 

For their Guardian Spirit watches: 
The pitiless Northern Cold. 

At rest — with the stars above them. 
In the silent, long, long nights. 

We'll leave them to the glory 

And the flare of the Northern lights. 



47 



The Roundhouse 

The full moon shines serenely- 
Through the gaps in the wisplike clouds. 
And the smoke from the roundhouse rises 

And drifts aloft in shrouds 
That melt as they mount in the stillness 

And dissolve in the phantom light. 
Where the pale moon's silver glory 

Illumines the dusk of night. 
In the shadowy vaults of the roundhouse. 

Where the grim, steel racers sleep, 
The men of the "night shift" forces 

Their smoky vigil keep — 
Hot and stained with labor, 

Weird and grimy bands. 
Moving about the engines 

With torches in their hands. 
They climb to the top of the boiler. 

They creep below to the pit, 
And wherever a bolt has loosened 

They tighten her up a bit; 
They crouch between the drivers. 

And there, by the torches' light. 
Inspect the rods and bearings 

To see that all is right. 
48 



The Roundhouse 

In the depths of the smoking circle 

There's an engine cleaned for the run. 
Inspected and oiled for the journey — 

And the "hostler's" work is done. 
The roar of her steam escaping 

Sets a-tremble the girders near. 
And the men in the ringing deafness 

Shout in each other's ear. 
But look! Out there in the darkness 

There's a twinkle of yellow light, 
And slowly the roaring monster 

Shps out in the dead of the night. 
She stops on the turntable center. 

Her steam rising high in the air. 
And her little bell steadily clanging 

With warning mellow and clear. 
The light of the moon's upon her. 

With shadows of gray and black. 
As she swings like a ship at anchor 

Till she picks up her outbound track; 
Then slowly rolls to the station 

To wait for the westbound train 
That she'll haul through the night and darkness 

Till she's finished her run again. 

A hush comes over the roundhouse, 
There's only a light here and there; 

The silver moon shines in the heavens, 
And the smoke drifts high in the air. 
49 



The Valley of Play 

In the Valley of Play where daisies grow, 
Blue skies above, green fields below. 
The children watch the flyers go 
Along the four-tracked line. 

They pause awhile in the midst of play 
To see the trains rush past each day 
From ever so far and far away, 
Along the mysterious line. 

They love to watch them running fast ; 
A trail of cars — a whistle's blast. 
And the block swings back — for the flyer's 
passed. 
And dwindling down to a speck. 

So they come to the orchard every day 
And "make believe" — in their Valley of Play- 
That they themselves are riding away 
Along the four-tracked line. 



50 



What the Railroad Never Tells 

The low-lying mist of the cold afternoon 
Has shrouded the land in its curtain of gray. 

As our "Limited" hastens past valley and dale 
Through the cheerless, dreary day. 

My thoughts go back to the dim, lost years 

That have passed since the railroad was first be- 
gun; 

To the strife for supremacy, commerce, and trade, 
To the records of victories won. 

And while I am dreaming of deeds in the past 
Whose story the years of the future will show, 

It comes to me now, as it ne'er has before. 
How little we really do know — 

How little we know of the sorrow and strife. 

Of the sadness and gloom, of the struggles and 
tears ; 
The dreams and the failures, the secrets and woes, 
Lost in the bygone years. 

51 



Tides of Commerce 

Every tunnel and cut, every bridge on the line 
Has a story to tell that will never be known; 

Each mile has its tale, each triumph its gloom. 
Buried deep in the years that have flown. 

And all of these secrets are lost in the past, 

Where they sleep in oblivion — yes, and sleep well; 

For only the railroad remembers the tale; 
And the railroad will never tell. 



52 



The Inventor 

This is the child of my planning, 
Crown of the work of my mind. 

Goal of the years of my toiling, 
The prize I have longed to find. 

Oh, the Dreams I have constantly cherished, 
And the Hopes that have led me on; 

And the Prayers to the Master-Builder 
That this — only this — be done. 

And, God! what trails I've traveled! 

What failm-es, defeats, and pains 
Have followed my endless searching, 

That the world might reap my gains 1 

But now the search is ended, 

The years of toil are gone; 
My Dream of Dreams is finished ; 

My Work at last is done. 

Then will I praise the Master 

Who fashions every plan. 
And may my work be useful 

In serving God and Man. 
53 



At the End of the Night 

The lights of the railroad shimmer 

In the river's lazy tide, 
And the lamps on the bridges glimmer 

Where the waters shift and glide. 

But soon the night will be ended; 

Slowly the heavens fade, 
While the shadowy hills are blended 

With the nearer Works of Trade. 

And while the star-points quiver; 

The dawn-light spreads, gray-blue; 
The mist creeps up from the river; 

And the rails are wet with dew. 

The awakening heaven changes; 

The river haze drifts low; 
And there comes on the Eastern ranges 

A soft, red-golden glow 

That spreads where the clouds are drifting- 

Gold, and orange, and rose, 
Lilac and crimson — shifting 

Where the cloud-belt flames and glows, 
54 



At the End of the Night 

Till the sunlight flares on the ridges. 
The dawn-mist clears away; 

The car windows flash on the bridges. 
And the world begins the day. 



55 



In the Pullman Window 

The evening dusk has dimmed the yard 
Where signals twinkle clear, 

The trains are bright with electric light 
And happiness and cheer. 

A "Limited" pulls slowly out, 

The switches clank below 
As out she trails across the rails, 

Majestically and slow. 

I watch the lighted windows pass, 

As on and on they ghde; 
A girl appears — and disappears; 

(One glimpse can hold you tied). 

Dark, fluffy hair, uptilted nose. 
Dear lips and laughing eyes, 

Unconscious there that one may care. 
Beneath the starlit skies. 

I watch the train lights fade away 
And mock my vain endeavor ; 

Yet memory holds her in its folds, 
Though she is gone forever. 
56 



In the Pullman Window 

I wonder who she is, and whom 
She loves and where she goes; 

And if she dreams of Southern streams 
Or drifting Northern snows. 

But far away, through shadowy hours. 

The flyer will whirl and roar ; 
And she will sleep — while lanterns keep 

Their watch on semaphore. 

We know the pace those flyers set, 

We know that lives are dear. 
Through storm and rain — God speed that 
train — 

And may the blocks show "Clear." 



57 



The Answer 

The question came from the idlers. 

Lost in laughter and play, 
Knowing no work or purpose, 

Whiling their time away; 
Indebted to many a worker 

For luxury, wealth, and ease. 
Yet living a life of comfort, 

And seeking the things that please. 

From the lips of these play-loving people, 

Bound by the harbor's bar, 
A question was asked of their brothers 

Who battle in lands afar: 
"Why have you left your pleasures 

To travel on distant trails? 
Why have you gone to the world-ends 

With your bridges and cars and rails? 

"Had you chosen the life that was given. 

And forgotten the hills and the sea, 
You would doubtless be living in splendor. 

And luxury — even as we. 
Explain to us then your folly; 

Tell us your tale, and why 
You have turned from the chance that was offered 

To battle and toil and die?" 

58 



The Answer 

The answer came from the vanguard, 

Out on the distant shore, 
Building new harbors and highways, 

Seeking new lands to explore ; 
Planning and making great cities. 

Tilling the fresh- turned soil; 
Moulding new kingdoms of commerce 

By endless labor and toil. 

"Who are you to be talking of folly? 

And what have you done to know? 
Have you traveled the distant ranges 

Where the trails are blocked with snow? 
Have you felt the pangs of hunger? 

And known the pain of thirst? 
Have you battled with storm and ocean 

When the hurricane roared its worst ? 

"Would you seek from us then our answer? 

Do you ask for our reasons, and why 
We have turned from the chance that was offered 

To battle and toil and die? 
Then follow the track of our armies; 

Go where our conquerors go; 
Trail where our legions have traveled — 

Then perhaps you will know!" 



59 



On the Line 

Well, speakin' o' queer things, Jimmy, 
It's funny what some people say 

When they're talkin' o' railroads in general. 
Which they know little of, by the way. 

Last week I was down at the station. 
An' some folks who were standin' near. 

Were talkin' o' life on the railroad. 

An' the work the men do through the year. 

They said that our hours were easy, 

That the chance for promotion was fine; 

That pay was high in the service. 
An' that work wasn't hard on the line. 

Now, Jim, when they study a railroad, 
From the trains as they ride to and fro, 

They look wise — an' tell all about it. 
For you see, Jim, they think they know. 

But, Jimmy, it doesn't much matter. 

What they talk of or what they may claim. 

For do what you will on the railroad, 
The work's pretty much all the same. 
60 



On the Line 

It's the same hard work, an' we know it, 
Week in an' week out through the year. 

An' the same long runs for the train crews. 
You know, Jim, you've worked with me here. 

Wliat's more, once you get on the railroad 
The chances are, Jim, that you'll stay. 

There's something about it that holds you; 
Would you quit your job to-day? 

An' as for these people who study 

Our work from a Pullman car. 
Though they talk o' the things as they know 'em, 

They don't see the things as they are. 

But, Jimmy, we've been at this business. 

Till we know every signal an' sign, 
Yes, we know what it's like on the railroad, 

For, Jimmy — we've worked on the line. 



61 



As the Westbound Train Goes by 

Trailing away, trailing away, 

Into the west at the close of the day. 

Speeding afar, speeding afar, 

To the magical land of the evening star: 

Into the sunset light you go 

Wonderful train, I long to know 

Whom you carry, what joys and fears 

Within you burn, what dreams and tears 

Assail the hearts of those you bear 

To the land where the sunset colors flare. 



The Lightships 

Rising and falling, high and low, in the swell and the 
salt- washed spray; 
Over again and back again on the shifting ocean 
floor ; 
Never a rest and never a pause through the length of 
night and day. 
We guard the gate from the open sea to the bay 
and the dock-lined shore. 

We bathe in the mist of the morning haze, as it clears 
in the warmth of the sun, 
And the ships and headlands come to view, on the 
gold-gray, oily sea; 
And the tideway slips and eddies and curls in its rest- 
less, rock-bound run, 
While around and above in the pale blue sky the 
sea gulls circle free. 



63 



Tides of Commerce 

In the dead of the silent, noonday hour, when the sea 
is a quiver of heat. 
We rise and fall in the lazy swell, while the hot 
ropes slap on the mast. 
And in from the ocean or outward bound, where the 
channel and sea-way meet, 
We watch the ships on the languid sea as they 
move serenely past. 



When the blood-red sun sinks low in the west, and 
the sea is a fire of light. 
When the skies are all crimson and purple and 
gold, and the water is colored below ; 
The lamps on the shore-line twinkle and gleam and 
our beacon awakes for the night. 
As we swing in the golden, eddying wash of the 
tide-way's lazy flow. 



Through the endless watch of the long, long night 
our beacon lamp shines clear. 
And far away in the lonely dark, the ships pick up 
the light — 
The welcome light that tells the crew the harbor now 
is near. 
And guides them safely through the void of the 
ocean's unknown night. 
64i 



The Lightships 

We watch the big, black ships loom up across the 
outer bars, 
Gaunt phantoms of the mystic deep with porthole 
lights aglow; 
And 'way on high their roaring stacks stand black 
against the stars. 
While the ghostly phosphor gleams and flares 
about the sea below. 



When the cold gray fog comes creeping in with its 
dreary, smoky pall. 
And the blind ships' fog-blasts pierce the mist and 
answer each other again. 
Our warning fog-horn guides them on as they slowly 
move and call. 
While now and again comes the sound of bells 
from afar in the misty rain. 

In the driving whirl of the blinding storm, when the 
hawsers creak and groan, 
We rise high above, and we fall far away till the 
plunging bow goes under. 
And afar through the smoke of the roaring storm, 
our fog-horn's bellowing moan 
Mingles at times with the rattling crash of the 
lightning and echoing thunder. 

65 



Tides of Commerce 

Never we tire — and night and day, in sun, or rain, or 
snow, 
We welcome the giant deep-sea ships, as we swing 
in the ocean's foam ; 
And up on the bridge of the passing boats, where 
the Captains stand, they know 
The work we do, and they bless the ship that guides 
them safely home. 



66 



Nightsong 

(A little boy, who in life loved to watch the rail- 
road trains and semaphores and signal lights, is 
buried in a cemetery close to the railroad tracks, 
where the block signals guard the right of way.) 

Thou hast played long enough, 

little child, 
Come to thy rest; 
Trusting and undefiled, 
Wondrously blest. 
Slowly the sunset dies: — 
Radiance gleaming, 
Glow of the western skies 
Easterly streaming. 

Softly the last golden ray 
Fades in the west. 
Father and mother pray, 
"Calm be thy rest." 
So lay thee down to sleep, 
Freed from all sorrow. 
While thy beloved keep 
Watch till to-morrow. 
67 



Tides of Commerce 

Rest, little child, through the night. 
Sleep without dream, 
Stars in the upper height 
Twinkle and gleam. 
Railroad lights in the dell 
Watch close above thee. 
And as thou loved them well 
Know that they love thee. 

So the stars shall keep watch 

in the sky, 
Ever thy friends. 
And the lights of the line nearby. 
Till the night ends. 
And thy mother shall pray 

for thy rest, 
Her vigil keeping; 
So thou art more than blest, 
Child — in thy sleeping. 



68 



The Conquerors 

The moon in the vault of heaven 

Shone down with ghostly glow. 
On the field where the blood of the slaughtered 

Soaked black in the ground below. 
The foe had fought bravely and fiercely 

For the cause they believed to be right. 
But the legions of Rome were the victors, 

Ere the twilight had turned into night. 

In the ghastly hours that followed 

The vultures kept watch till morn 
O'er the helpless tortured soldiers: 

Battered, and gashed, and torn — 
Slaughtered by hundreds and thousands. 

Hurled to the ranks of the dead. 
Butchered with never a reason. 

But to hasten an empire's spread. 

Nearby, in the camp of the victors. 

The watch fires burned through the night, 

While the forms of the sleeping legions 
Were revealed by the flickering light. 
69 



Tides of Commerce 

Silent was all the encampment, 
As still as the forms of the dead, 

Save for the champing of horses 
And the sentry's measm-ed tread. 

The soldiers were dreaming of triumphs, 

Waiting them all at home, 
For they were the hosts of the victors, 

And their Empire city was Rome. 
Conquerors they of all nations — 

Ocean, and field, and wood; 
Avengers of might and of power, 

Victors of fire and blood. 

But to-day there's another great army 

Who toil with ship and car. 
Their vanguard has crossed every ocean. 

Their battle line stretches afar. 
Over the world they travel 

And conquer each country and land ; 
For they're building a Kingdom of Kingdoms, 

An Empire Throne that will stand. 

It is they who civilize nations, 
Serving mankind far and wide; 

And an empire built with that purpose 
Is an empire built to abide. 
70 



The Conquerors 

The army that's winning these battles, 
The cohort that never will shirk, 

Is the multitude army of labor, 
The legion of toil and of work. 

They're running our railroads and vessels, 

They're at work in the city and town. 
They're earning the bread of the nation. 

Yet in earning it, reap no renown. 
Conquerors they of all nations. 

Conquerors worthy the name; 
Who are victors by toil and endeavor, 

And in conquering, look not for fame. 



71 



Clearing the Way 

Through the cold, drear autumn drizzle. 

And the fog's gray spectral veil. 
There looms the twisted wreckage 

Strewn on the flyer's trail. 
The big, steel cars lie covered 

With debris piled on high. 
Truck, and spring, and coupler. 

Beam, and rail, and tie. 

The battered, bloodstained roadbed. 

Torn for a hundred yards. 
Gashed with the wreck of the far-strewn train. 

The work of the "crew" retards; 
While hurled in lost confusion — 

Scarred, and crushed, and rent — 
The cars and locomotives 

Lie piled with steelwork bent. 

The great, grim, wrecking- derricks 

Toil at the helpless train. 
While the creaking, groaning cables 

Are tightening imder the strain. 
72 



Clearing the Way 

The grating rasp of metal, 

And the clang of beams and bars, 

Mingles with rattle of tackle 
As they lift the ponderous cars. 

Over the twisted steelwork 

The men of the "break-down" train 
Crawl on the battered Pullmans, 

Wet and soaked with rain. 
But never the wind or weather 

May slacken a wrecking crew. 
For there're other flyers waiting 

And they've got to get them through. 

Nearby are the doctors and nurses 

(Rushed on a special train), 
Cutting, and probing, and binding 

In the gloom of the misty rain ; 
While stretched beside the wreckage, 

Covered from foot to head. 
With rain-soaked, blood-stained blankets, 

Lie the mangled forms of the dead. 

There'll be many a family saddened, 

And many an "Extra" sold. 
When they learn of the grim disaster 

In the fog and the autumn cold. 
73 



Tides of Commerce 

And every village and city 

Will be reading the news to-day, 

For some one forgot an order — 
And they're clearing the signs away. 



74 



The Ocean Trail 

On the sandy beach of the long South shore, 
Wliere the ocean*s swell comes lazily in, 
You can watch the gulls as they circle about,, 
And the porpoises plunging in playful rout; 
You can see the ships steaming in and out. 
In the track of the ocean trail. 

They fly the colors of every land; 

And they come from the ports of the seven seas. 

Laden with wares from a distant shore. 

Making their way to the Nation's door, 

Beating along as they have before, 

Over the deep-sea lanes. 

There's a ship to the south on the ocean blue — 
An inbound liner from distant lands. 
Crowds are waiting her down the bay: 
Friends made happy by her to-day; 
Can you hear her blowing to clear the way 
Where the harbor meets the tide? 

And further west, where the lightship rides, 
There's a freighter bound for the China Sea; 
Off for the land of the rising sun, 

75 



Tides of Commerce 

Loaded with merchandise, many a ton. 
Steaming away on her distant run 
To the eastern lands afar. 

So every day the hners pass. 

Ships of all nations and lands and tides, 

By day, with the sunlit sea below. 

At night, with a thousand lights aglow, 

You can see the great ships come and go. 

In the track of the ocean trail. 



76 



Night in the Yards 

The city was sleeping, but down in the yards 

The smoke and the steam from the engines there 

Were mingled above with the fog and the rain 
In the misty, midnight air. 

The semaphore lamps, as they gleamed through the 
dusk. 

Pierced the night fog with their ring-circled light, 
And the voices of bells in the darkness and gloom 

Chimed, in the dreary night. 

The echoing whistles from over the yard 

Drifted afar on the midnight haze, 
And the headlights of trains stealing in from the 
west. 

Glowed with their misty rays. 

I watched those trains as they passed through the 
yard, 
Into the shadowy darkness borne. 
Dim trains of Pullman sleeping cars, 
Timed for the coast by morn. 

*7.7 



Tides of Commerce 

The yard lights shone through the ghostly mist, 
No pen can describe it as I saw it there, 

With the endless succession of dim, black cars. 
And the moving trains everywhere. 



78 



Conclusions 

In the noonday luncheon hour, 
When we pause a bit for eatin', 

I sits upon the plankin' o' the pier. 
I looks at the great harbor. 
An' I does a little thinkin', 

On this busy, busy world about me here. 

Beside the dock lie freighters. 
Tramps of all the oceans. 

That beat around an' hail from God knows where ; 
You could sail, an' sail, an' sail 
To the end of all the seas. 

But you'd surely find these ships a-loadin' there. 

Agin' the blue above me, 
I see the masts an' tackle. 

With the blocks an' ropes a-swingin' from the spars, 
Where the colliers an' the lighters 
An'" the freighters an' the floats 

Are a-loadin' from the creakin', squeakin' cars. 

79 



Tides of Commerce 

The river's full o' traffic. 
Tugs, an' tramps, an' ferries, 

A-steamin' up and down, an' here an' there. 
An' the buildin's 'cross the water, 
With their thousand gleamin' windows, 

Stand bright an' splendid in the autumn air. 

There's the cries o' wheelin' sea gulls, 
An' the voice o' distant whistles, 

An' the clashin' o' the couplers on the cars ; 
There's the citj^'s dull, dull roar. 
An' the lap an' swash o' the water. 

An' the rattlin' o' clankin' chains an' bars. 

This harbor kind o' holds me, 
I somehow sort o' love it — 

An' I know I couldn't keep away for long, 
For I marvels at its bigness. 
An' I glories in its greatness. 

An' its traffic an' its busy roarin' throng. 

So I sits, and thinks, an' ponders. 
An' I comes to my conclusions 

As I sees the harbor twinklin' in the sun. 
I feel the Lord's a-watchin'. 
An' I know it's all His plannin' ; 

Yes, that's the way this mighty thing is done. 

80 



Machinery Song 

Clash, and clang, and ring — oh. 

Ride, and glide, and slide — ^ho. 

Back and forth where the oil is bright 

On the gleaming steel that shines in the light, 

Let her go. 

Let her go, 
Never a stop in night or day. 
Roaring onward — that's our way. 
By the drowsy drone of the whirling wheel. 
By the light that winks on the shining steel. 

You know. 

You know. 
The kind of work we do — so 
Listen to the song we sing : 
'Cross the land and tide — ho — 
Clash, and cling, and clang, and ring, 
Ride, and glide, and slide. 



81 



Inside Information 

There's a lot that's good an' a lot that's bad, 
A lot that's funny, an' a lot that's sad; 
Like anythin' else, there's Light and Shade^ 
An' that's the way the Railroad's made. 



It ain't much better, and it ain't much worse. 
Than other big ventures, an' o' course, 
They've had no end o' praise and fame, 
What's more, they've had their share o' shame. 

On the railroad, 

On the railroad; 
They've had quite a past on the line. 



There were secret ways to give rebates. 

An' secret ways to "fix" the rates; 

So they held up freight at the inland town, 

While the cars o' the "trust" were rushed right down 

On the railroad, 

On the railroad; 
They've gone to the limit on the line. 

82 



Inside Information 

Oh, the things that were done in the cars (out o' sight) 
As the trains were swingin' along at night, 
And the tips the passengers gave (on the sly) 
To "help things along" or to "pass things by" 

On the railroad, 

On the railroad ; 
They've gone to the limit on the line. 

Oh, the men an' the cars that passed "O. K." 
When they weren't even fit to be out that day; 
An' the graft "higher up" an' the graft "lower down," 
At many a stop, an' many a town 

On the railroad. 

On the railroad; 
They've gone to the limit on the line. 

But there're also men who'd give half pay, 
To help some pal along the way ; 
For wherever the old steel track goes through 
There's plenty o' boys with hearts true-blue 

On the railroad. 

On the railroad; 
There's a lot that's good on the Hne. 

I've seen a conductor pay full fare, 
For a poor old lady who hadn't her share 

83 



Tides of Commerce 

O' the coin o' the world — but her son was sick. 
An' it saved his Hfe that she got there quick 

On the railroad, 

On the railroad; 
There are good, kind hearts on the line. 

There's Joe, who noticed a boy one day, 
As he started to cross in the "Limited's" way; 
Joe saved the kid — but his work was done, 
(For a life was paid for the life he had won) 

On the railroad, 

On the railroad; 
There's a lot that's good on the line. 

Oh, the railroad ruins, an' the railroad builds, 
The railroad blesses, and the railroad kills, 
An' Wrong goes along with the Right, you know. 
For that's the way that things will go 

On the railroad. 

On the railroad; 
There's Light and Shade on the line. 



84 



The Harbor Lights 

Lights along the rivers, on the docks, and on the 
buildings — 
Lamps that tower skyward in the oflSces aglow — 
Twinkling chains of gold extending far along the 
shoreline — - 
Green and red lights gliding to and fro. 

The circling gulls have seen them, wheeling round the 
fdocks at sunset, 
And the crowds on bridge and ferry know the 
lamps that glisten clear; 
While the seamen on the vessels inward bound from 
foreign waters 
Watch with joy the welcome harbor lights appear. 

There are yellow pin points shining from a thousand 
city windows, 
And the arc lights on the docks and on the bridges 
twinkle white; 
Here and there the emerald-greens of distant vacuum 
lamps are glowing, 
Adding color to the gleaming chains of light. 

85 



Tides of Commerce 

The electric-lighted bridges span the traffic-studded 
river; 
While the slowly crawling trolleys and the ele- 
vated trains, 
Crossing and recrossing with their ceaseless tide of 
people. 
Blink like many twinkling diamond chains. 

At the entrance of the harbor, where the rivers meet 
the ocean, 
And the faithful little pilot-boats their endless 
vigil keep. 
There the lonely lights are watching — flash and dark- 
ness — flash and darkness; 
Beacons, welcoming the couriers of the deep. 

A thousand points that gleam and flare from boat 
and bridge and building^ — 
Gliding lights reflected in the shifting tide below — 
Lamps that tower skyward, and beacons at the en- 
trance — 
Green and red lights moving to and fro. 



86 



Transportation Song 

Servants of the land. 

Toilers of the deep. 
Far across the sand. 

Over crag and steep. 
Blasting through the ridges, 

Beating through the snow. 
Building canon bridges. 

Thus — our legions go. 
Steering ocean courses. 

Never sailed by man, 
Crushing Nature's forces 

To serve our mighty Plan. 
Faithful here we stand. 

We who never sleep; 
Servants of the Land, 

Toilers of the Deep. 



87 



Water Power 

From the eddying, racing water, 

By the gates of the towering dam, 

We plunge down — down — through the tunnel, 

Through the dark of the steel-bound tunnel; 

Through the whirling crush of the tunnel, 

Till we crash on the turbine blades — 

Oh yes! 
And we swirl on the turbine blades. 
And the Turbines thrill with Power 
And the Dynamos wake with life. 
Tremble with surging life. 
Throb with electric Life. 
And through each pulsing hour 
In our vaults of stone and steel. 
We echo our Song of Power 
As the turbines race and reel. 



88 



The Man Who Knows 

There's a lonely cut in the mountain chain 

Where the railroad line goes through; 
There's a man who guards with a watchful eye 
Each bolt and plate and rail and tie, 
And watches the thundering trains go by 
As they roar through the echoing cut. 

And down the polished lines of steel 

(Once an Indian trail) 
At a bend in the stream by the mountain flank, 
Where the forest and brush grow thick and rank, 
And the line skirts close to the river bank, 

The double bridges stand. 

One day, when the rising flood-swept stream 

Had reached the record mark. 
The man at the cut held his watch in his hand, 
He was waiting the flyer (you'll understand 
He was proud that day) for his own son's hand 

Held the lever that ruled the train. 

He had just been promoted that very day. 

And his father alone in the cut 
Was waiting to cheer as the train went through; 

89 



Tides of Commerce 

He listened! Yes — there her whistle blew! 
And she'd soon be near, for the old man knew 
She was just beyond the stream. 



He paused again — stopped short, looked up, 

And gripped his flag stick tight. 
For the rumbling groan of a distant clash 
Boomed out — and the mountains reechoed the crash; 
The old man listened, and quick as a flash 

He thought of the weakened bridge. 



He thought of the chance for life and death — 

And he thought of the engineer. 
Had the flyer passed when the girders fell? 
Which bridge had gone? (For the man knew well 
Some bridge had gone) — but the blocks would tell; 

And he hurried around the curve. 



Blindly he stumbled along the ties. 

Till he came to the telltale blocks; 
* "Danger," they showed; no train was near; 
He thought of the bridge, and the flood-washed pier 
And the rumbling boom that reached his ear. 

And he felt that the worst had come. 

• In one particular type of block signal which is now coming into fairly general 
use, the normal position of the signal arm is at "Danger," the block signal showing 
"Clear" only when a train is approaching and the block ahead is clear. 

90 



The Man Who Knows 

He knelt and made the sign of the Cross — 

The danger block swung Clear, 
"Clear"! All clear along the way! 
(For there's One whom even the blocks obey) 
He heard a whistle from far away, 

And he knew that the train was saved. 

Are you wondering how the thing was done? 

Or the way the train came through? 
Then go to the time-scarred mountain chain. 
Where the rocks ring back to the roar of the train 
And the old man watches through storm and rain- 
Go ask the man — he knows. 



91 



Where There's Never a Dress Parade 

One day I was watching the evening parade. 
The sunset shone on the ranks nearby 

With their rifles and swords flashing bright in the 
Hght 
And their banners and colors on high. 

Along the edge of the field, a crowd 

Had gathered to look at the soldiers there, 

While the measured strains of the regiment's band 
Came clear on the evening air. 

As I gazed on the scene with its color and life. 
Its bands and its banners, its tassels and braid, 

I thought of another great army of men, 
Where there's never a Dress Parade. 



I thought of the trains rushing on through the night. 

Waking the echoes of mountain and glen; 
And I knew that the men who were running those 
trains. 
Might never see home again. 

92 



Where There's Never a Dress Parade 

The army of commerce toils on night and day ; 

And the world cares but little, and little it knows, 
But the work never stops, and the army toils on, 

While the volume of traffic still grows. 

And few are the people who think of those men, 
Or the toll of their ranks in the course of a year, 

Or the work which they do and the lives which they 
guard 
While the passengers ride without fear. 

For the vast tide of commerce sweeps on in its course, 
While the army that labors is little repaid. 

Yes — the work of the railroad forever goes on, 
But there's never a Dress Parade. 



93 



The "Mile-a-Minute" Trains 

Every minute along the line 

Counts when the trip is done; 
Every division along the way 

Means so many hours to run ; 
And sixty minutes is sixty miles 

Whether it shines or rains. 
They can't afford to waste their time 

On the mile.-a-minute trains. 

There's ease and comfort within the cars. 

Much like a good hotel, 
With porter or waiter to come to your chair 

When you press the electric bell. 
And books and papers, and valets and maids. 

As you cross the mountain chains; 
But it's different up in the cab ahead 

On the mile-a-minute trains. 

Whenever an order is sent to a crew, 

They know that it means "Obey," 
For it's life and death — and they've got to be there, 

On the job, or they're fired that day. 
94 



The "Mile-a-Minute" Trains 

In other work where rules are slack; 

Things happen, and no one complains, 
But the men of the line — Oh, they'd better keep 
straight, 

On the mile-a-minute trains. 

A lot depends on the way things work; 

Levers, and locks, and bars ; 
Brakes and bearings, bolts and valves, 

For the big steel Pullman cars ; 
Rails and ballast, lights and guards, 

Rivets and rods and chains; 
If things aren't right, God help 'em all, 

On the mile-a-minute trains. 



95 



The Fulfillment 

The works of steel and iron, 

The monuments of man, 
Are but the great fulfiUment 

Of Thy all-knowing plan. 

Thine is the Hand that fashions 

The racers of the rails, 
And builds the giant steamers 

That ply the ocean trails. 

And Thine the strength that conquers 
The canons and the ridges. 

That drives the rock-hewn tunnels 
And hangs the dizzy bridges. 

That rears our towered cities, 
And runs our ringing drills. 

That turns our whirring turbines 
And drives our whirling mills. 

In all our hands have fashioned; 

In all our brains have known; 
We pay to Thee our homage 

We give to Thee Thine own. 
96 



The Fulfillment 

Thus, to the distant ages — 
Thus, since hfe began — 

Our works are the fulfilhnent 
Of Thy controUing plan. 



97 



Terminal Dreams 

When the miles of hfe are past, 
And the train is home at last, 

And the signal lights grow dim and 
melt away. 
When the last long run is over. 
And we cross that boundary river, 
We'll have rest — God knows we'll 
need it — on that day. 



98 



To the Lights of the Lines 

Lights of the Lines, receive the thanks 

Of one who, now returning, 
Sees on the well-known river banks 

Your welcome signals burning. 

Now, as in bygone saddened nights, 
Gleaming with hope you lend me 

Strength and repose; Oh steadfast lights, 
Ever may you befriend me! 

Signals that guard the "right of way" 

Into the darkness blending, 
Ever so far — and far away. 

Over the world extending; 

Sentinel lights that gird the earth, 

To you my songs are given, 
Knowing them far below your worth 

However much I've striven. 

Little the world is like to know 
All you have done to aid me, 

Nor can my poor words ever show 

How you have cheered and stayed me; 
99 



Tides of Commerce 

For, in the night, you brought to me 
Hope, in the hours of sadness, 

Light that enabled me to see. 
Courage, and faith, and gladness. 

Nor is compassion an offense. 
And, in the Great To-morrow, 

Surely the Lord will recompense 
Those who have lightened sorrow. 

Then do I bring to you my praise, 
You who have stood beside me; 

And to the end of all my days 
May you be near to guide me! 



100 



Oh! for a Master Painter 

Afar on the rails and tideways, 
Throughout the night and day, 

The trains and the ships are toihng 
On the land and the ocean way. 

Looming above the waters 
In the crimson evening glow, 

Black against the sunset. 

The great ships come and go. 

And through the mist of the valley, 
When night creeps down at last, 

Like glowing ghosts in the darkness. 
The lighted trains go past. 

Then Oh, for a Master Painter! 

Oh, for a Master Hand! 
To paint such scenes on canvas 

That men might understand. 

Would that some fire-souled dreamer, 
Whose brush held a magic sway, 

A Raphael, Titian, or Turner, 
Would take up the work to-day! 
101 



Tides of Commerce 

That the world might see and remember 

The wonder of it all, 
And understand the message 

Of our commerce, great and small. 

Then Oh, for a Master Painter! 

Oh, for a Master Hand! 
To paint the work on canvas, 

That the world might understand. 



102 



Apology 

Kingdoms of industry, realms of tide and rail, 
Snow-crested peaks, and cities thronged with life, 
Forgive the feeble hand that strives to paint — 
And only half suggests the wonder, and the power, 
And the glory of the things my eyes have seen. 



103 



The Terminal 

The skies above the city change and glow; 
And radiant, golden clouds are trailed across 
The softly fading blue, while here and there 
About the streets, the lights begin to gleam. 
The busy shops along the crowded lanes 
Are bright within, while down the asphalt streets 
The endless lines of restless autos crawl, 
And stop, and start, and move ahead again. 
The overcrowded trolleys jolt and clang — 
Aglow with lights — while all along the way 
A countless host incessantly goes by. 

And where the roaring city's busy tide 
Seems blackest in its shifting, moving stream, 
There, massive in its solemn dignity. 
The terminal stands — its solid granite walls 
Touched by the last faint crimson sunset glow, 
Its open portals black with pulsing life 
That goes to distant lands, or comes from far. 

Within the terminal — vast and vaulted high — 
The footsteps seem to deaden as they fall. 
And crowds that hurried in with careless tread 
Slacken their haste — as if in some great hall 

104 



The Terminal 

Wliere Majesty and Power ruled in state; 
And far on high, the friezes on the walls, 
The angles of the stone, and towering roof. 
Look down in solemn stilhiess on the crowds 
That move, and shift, and eddy far below, 
In concourse, waiting room, or lofty hall. 
And over all, the gleam of softened light 
Kindles, and warms the building with its glow. 

Among the crowds what stories may be guessed 
And read in all the faces gathered there! — 
Sadness and joy, expectancy, regret. 
Grief and despair, and idle thoughtlessness. 
Hatred, and pain, and love, and buoyant hope. 
In young and old — in men of all estates, 
Some portion of their life and thought and work 
Is mirrored on each face among the crowd. 

Beside the train-gates, in the Concourse vast. 
The restless hundreds watch with longing eyes 
The passengers, their loved ones come or go; 
While near at hand, the grim, steel flyers wait, 
That trail afar to distant, dreamed-of lands, 
And link the scattered cities of the reahn. 

From far away, above the drone 
And hum of conversation in the halls, 

105 



Tides of Commerce 

The cry of "All aboard" rings deep and clear 
And echoes from the walls, and wanders lost 
In ceiling's arching curve and vaulted roof; 
While, far below, some "Limited" pulls out- 
Out to the world-known cities of the land. 



106 



The Ruling Law 

Master of Commerce, King of land and seas. 
Maker of all, and Judge of might and awe; 

Forbid that in our work we should forget 
That all is subject to thy Ruling Law. 

Cities and towers reared against the sky, 

Far-trailing trains that conquer cliff and hill; 

Wires and lines that link the farthest lands — 
These and their like, we fashion as we will. 

And should we boast of what our hands have made, 
May we remember, Lord, that Thou art nigh — 

For we could hold no sway, nor might, nor power. 
Were it not granted to us from on high. 

And who are we to claim Thy work as ours, 
To boast, or to presume to build and rear? 

Save in the might and power of Thy hand 
That gives us strength to serve Thee without fear. 

Then may we lay our conquering strands of steel. 
And build our towering ships to rule the seas. 

And rear our Works, with girder, block, and stone, 
Strong in the faith that Thou art Lord of These. 

107 



L' Envoi 

The rails and docks and buildings now grow dim; 

The sunset glow is in the western sky; 

And harbor lights and yard lights twinkle now. 

The night-shift's on — and others are in quest 

Of quiet after toil — their needed rest. 

And so farewell, lights of the rail and tide; 

And while the world sleeps on, your watch still keep 

O'er distant steelshod trail and ocean deep. 



108 




THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
GARDEN CITY. N.Y. 



